


Only You Can Tell Us Apart

by DefinitelyNotBees



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Regretting It, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, George Being Forward, Getting Together, M/M, Mentioned Minerva McGonagall, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Quidditch, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21986371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefinitelyNotBees/pseuds/DefinitelyNotBees
Summary: The cute little story of George getting his shit together and asking Oliver on a date. There isn’t nearly enough of this pairing on Ao3, so enjoy :)
Relationships: George Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49
Collections: DefinitelyNotBees’ Personal Prompt Meme





	Only You Can Tell Us Apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenCityBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenCityBird/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [GoldenCityBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenCityBird/pseuds/GoldenCityBird) in the [Prompt_Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Prompt_Meme) collection. 



After forty minutes of one of the most tense Quidditch games in recent Hogwarts memory, Gryffindor finally pull ahead and win by a sliver. Poor Lee Jordan on the microphone is drowned out by all the screaming from the stands. Beside Lee, Professor McGonagall stifles an air punch, settling instead for a smug look at a scowling Professor Snape. 

Oliver Wood and George Weasley touch down neatly to the ground with air punches of their own. The other Gryffindor players have formed a scrum around Harry Potter and are trying to hoist him above their shoulders. Spectators are flooding the pitch, waving beautiful red and gold banners excitedly. 

For the first time in his life, George holds back from entering the shenanigans. He much prefers to chat animatedly to Oliver about the highs and lows of the game. 

“I was so sure that arse Malfoy was going to get the Snitch,” George says. “He was far closer when they saw the Snitch.”

“Yeah, Harry had better control of his broom in the end though. The better player won,” says Oliver, positively swelling with pride. George grins. The unwavering faith and pride Oliver held in the team was just one of his traits that made him so damn attractive to George.

“The better _team_ won,” quips George with a smirk. Oh, how he loved seeing Slytherin fans leaving the stands with dejected looks and banners shrunk out of sight. They both grin. "All thanks to your Sloth Grip Roll, of course," teases George. Oliver nods with fake solemnity, suppressing a laugh. 

"It wouldn't kill you to actually listen to my plans once in a while, you know," says Oliver, smiling ruefully. George squints at him. Is he joking? Merlin, he's not sure. Best to make it up to him.

"I do listen! I'm always one of the first down at the pitch with you, even in the practices at the break of dawn. I just- just get distracted sometimes, that's all." George flounders. Oliver elbows him in the ribs and snorts. He _is_ joking, George realises with a groan. They both chuckle. George can't lie, it's a bit awkward, especially with how he's just let that slip. Hopefully, Oliver won't realise that _he_ is the distracting force.

"Er, you said you get distracted? By who- er, by what?" Oliver says, not entirely successful at keeping the waver of hope out of his voice. George, usually so quick-witted, couldn't for the life of him come up with a retort.

"Er- just thinking about pranks, you know," splutters George. If that's not the absolute worst excuse he's ever come up with, he'll eat his broomstick. Oliver looks sideways at him, eventually deciding to let him off the hook.

"Anything coming up I should watch out for in the corridors?"

"If you find yourself anywhere near Snape, run like hell the other way, that's all I'm saying," says George with an evil grin, glad to be on a solid topic of conversation. Oliver echoes his grin, indulging him.

  


It didn’t happen often, George getting to spend time with Oliver. Fred used to always be by his side after games. That had all changed a few days ago. 

~~~

“Freddie, my boy,” George had said, aiming to sound playful. He hoped that his having spent considerable time mustering up the courage to confess wouldn’t be too obvious. “I fancy the socks off of Oliver Wood.” 

Fred had peered at him. “You're telling me, mate, as if I didn't already bloody know,” he'd said with an affectionate eye roll. Fred’s eyes had suddenly lit up. “If you ask him out, will you finally stop talking about him all the time?” 

George swatted his twin. 

“Rudeness, dear brother of mine, is unbecoming,” he'd trilled, in a spot-on impression of their ancient Aunt Muriel. “But yeah, probably,” he'd supposed. He hadn’t realised he’d spoken about Oliver that much. Fred had gotten a worrying faraway look in his eyes; that meant he was planning something. George gulped. 

~~~

Unsurprisingly with Oliver, their conversation has circled back to raving about the match. Oliver is gesticulating passionately, acting out his dramatic save. To George, the man has never looked better. There’s a wild look in his eyes, his muscles are filling out his Quidditch robes nicely, and his Scottish accent is coming in thick and fast. George simply can’t hold back any longer. 

“Hey, Oliver,” he says, sounding bolder than he feels. “Will you-” 

He’s cut off by shrieks from the stands. He turns around, confused, and sees hundreds of faces pointed upwards. He follows their gazes and closes his eyes. He feels in the pit of his stomach Fred’s involvement. A massive red and gold banner floats above the pitch bearing animated doves and the words ‘Marry me?’ 

He bursts into laughter. Oliver guffaws next to him.

“Who’s the lucky woman then, d’you think?” Oliver gets out once he recovers somewhat. 

George flushes. “It's, er, it’s you.” 

Oliver sees his serious face and sobers up completely. “What?” 

“I happen to have insider information,” says George, tapping his nose conspiratorially. He definitely has a flair for dramatics. “George is planning to ask you out on a date. He told me.”

Inwardly, George groans. Was this really the moment to try and convince Oliver that he was really Fred? No it bloody well wasn’t. 

Oliver mulls this over. He gives George a critical once-over. George grins, trying to throw him off the scent. He’s not sure he’ll be able to pass as Fred in front of one of the two people outside of his immediate family that can tell them apart. 

Oliver still hasn’t said a word. George gets desperate... and winks coquettishly. The effect is ruined by a blush spreading across his cheeks. Upon reflection, he’s not entirely sure what exactly his wink was meant to achieve.

Oliver bursts into gales of laughter. George blinks but joins in. When Oliver’s laughter doesn’t die down, George takes action.

“So, er, if George asked you out, what would you say?” He says, trying for an expression of detachment.

“I think if he asked me himself he might find out, what do you think, George?” Oliver says with a grin. George is momentarily floored but recovers well.

“Will you go out with me, Oliver?” 

A sweaty hand fumbles to interlace with his own. They both smile.

“Aye,” says Oliver firmly. 

“ _He said yes!_ ” Lee Jordan yells into his microphone while Professor McGonagall beside him smiles almost imperceptibly. George can hardly hear him. Spectators are cheering and fellow players are running over to congratulate them. George and Oliver only have eyes for each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are much appreciated.
> 
> If you have a request for anything Harry Potter related then feel free to ask x


End file.
